


uisge briseadair

by stardustgirl



Series: Fantasy AU [3]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: 3 Things, 3+1, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Attempted Murder, Dark Magic, Dökkálfar | Dokkalfar | Dark Elves (Norse Religion & Lore), Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Hints at Darker Angst, Kelpies, Medium Angst, Murder, Near Death Experiences, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Seelie Court, Unseelie Court
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 01:01:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18954739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/pseuds/stardustgirl
Summary: Three times they met a kelpie, and the one time it ended without harm.





	uisge briseadair

**Author's Note:**

> I used google translate for the title oops but it _should_ mean "water breaker" in Scottish Gaelic. But we'll see. This is unedited too, so rip anyone who sets eyes on it.
> 
> Also, just a heads up--big trigger warning. If you know anything about kelpies, you'll understand why.

He was thirteen, or maybe fourteen, when he met the local kelpie.

He had been running from a group of ‘troopers who happened to see him steal a small bag of grain.  It was considered horse feed, barely worth anything, at least by the merchant selling it—but apparently, it mattered if a street urchin thought he could eat it.  Sure, it likely would’ve only lasted the average person for a couple more days, but he knew how to make food stretch—and he could make _that_ last at least a week.

And so when he ran into the scruffy pony at the ocean’s edge, he thought the Goddess must have finally decided to look kindly upon him.

He mounted easily somehow, despite the fact that he hadn’t ridden in years now and even then, only minimally.  The pony turned its head slightly, snorting, and then its ears pricked at the sound of hoofbeats.

He turned to see three ‘troopers, mounted on big-boned grays.  One of the horses snorted at the sight of the pony, tossing its head and suddenly trying to duck out from underneath its rider.  The man jerked harshly on the reins, redirecting the gelding’s attention back to the thief.

“Off of the horse, kid.  And we’ll go easy on you.”

Ezra scoffed, shaking his head and folding his arms.  “I doubt that,” he called back, sticking out his tongue childishly.

“Off.  Now. Or we’ll be forced to take violent action.”  The soldier’s voice brokered no argument, but Ezra couldn’t see his expression through the helmet’s narrow anyway.

“Bye, then!” he called cheerfully, grasping the pony’s mane and pulling it to turn its head as he had seen many of the ‘troopers do with their reins.

“ _Boy—!_ ”

He tapped the pony’s sides with his heels and it snorted before launching itself forward into a flatout gallop.  He leaned over its neck as one of the soldiers began firing arrows at him. Despite having not ridden since the Incident, he seemed to have no problem sticking to the pony’s back as it stretched forward, short strides seeming to lengthen as it raced along the coastline.

He felt it _change_ underneath him.  If he had been asked to describe it, he would have been helpless to, but he simply knew that it _was_ changing.  It seemed to grow taller, sleeker, and its coat seemed….Different.

Somehow, the soldiers must have been alerted to the pony’s change, or else he had simply outran them.  He laughed in an odd mix of relief and triumph, closing his eyes as the pony continued to pound across the sand.

And then he heard the water.

Or rather, the absence of.

He opened his eyes to see the pony making a sharp turn into the now-quiet waves, a fog having suddenly slipped into—and now pervaded—the air.

“Hey, bud?” he asked hesitantly, leaning down to touch the pony’s neck.  It turned its head to look at him, and a chill ran down his spine—its eyes were a gleaming pitch black.

And he couldn’t move his hand.  Or his legs.

Chills began running through him repeatedly as the pony—no, _kelpie—_ charged deeper into the water.  In moments, he would be submerged.

He cried out the first thing he thought of.

“I have iron!”

The creature slowed, but it still didn’t stop as it eyed him a bit more warily.

He dug desperately into his pocket with his free hand, finding the iron knife and jerking it out.  He tried to avoid the blade, but it lightly touched his fingertip and he cried out, biting his lip to distract himself from the burning sensation.

He lightly touched it to the creature’s neck and it abruptly stopped, an unearthly shriek erupting from its mouth as it twisted roughly, trying to catch him off guard.

It had forgotten that he was stuck.

“Let me go, or I slice your throat,” he announced.   _Or at least try._  He wasn’t sure he could even _reach_ the kelpie’s throat from here, but a gash in its neck was close enough, right?

The creature hissed savagely, and he caught a glimpse of fangs as it started moving again, ploughing deeper into the water.  He gasped, taking a deep breath before the creature submerged both of them as the sandbar fell away.

He closed his eyes against the stinging of the salt, instead tightening his grip on the knife as he moved it further down the kelpie’s neck and drove it in.

It shrieked again, the sound distorted by the water.  He found himself free from its skin without warning, and abruptly kicked toward the surface.  He broke it with another gasp, eyes opening and widening as he realized how far the kelpie had taken them with its last lunge.

He started swimming toward shore, or at least trying to.  The Incident had happened before his father had taught him.

But a kelpie attack was a decent excuse to learn.

He was nearly back to the sandbar when something grabbed the back of his shirt.

He stiffened for half a second before adjusting his grip on the knife and turning, stabbing blindly.

The kelpie screamed again, letting him know he had hit home, but only moved out of range as he continued to stab wildly.  And then he realized—it didn’t have a hold on him. Only on the bottom of his tunic.

He twisted in an attempt to distract the creature as he reached up with the knife, sawing through his sleeve and hissing as the blade glanced off of his shoulder.

Ezra inhaled sharply, still clutching his knife, and willingly submerged himself again.

He slipped out of the other sleeve, struggling to tug his tunic off before the kelpie realized what was happening and retaliated.  Finally he succeeded, and surged to the surface again to gasp.

He risked a glance back as he started swimming again; the kelpie was still distracted by his cast-off tunic.

He made it to a shallower part of the sandbar and rose to his feet, sprinting for shore.

Without warning, splashing hoofbeats began to echo eerily in the thickening fog from behind him.

He went faster, oblivious to the cold as he raced for the sand.  Another few meters, and he would be safe.

He reached shore and turned just in time, knife raised as the kelpie arrived at the edge as well.  It eyed him warily and snorted, dark eyes blinking.

“Stay- stay back,” he stammered.  “Stay back.”

Abruptly, its demeanor changed slightly, cocking its head like he’d seen a Loth-wolf do once when it watched him fight a much smaller, but much more vicious, Loth-cat for a chicken leg he’d stolen from a camped patrol.  “You really _are_ unaware of what you are, aren’t you?  I thought it was just an act.” Its voice was surprisingly smooth but deep, like the steady rumble of the water churning over the mill.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do, boy.  Really, how hard is it to tell when you nearly scream every time you touch your own knife blade?”

Another shiver ran down his spine.  No.

“I’m _not—_ “

The creature chuckled, tossing its head.  “No, of course they would not have _told_ you.  That is against the rules.”

“What rules?”  The kelpie was beginning to scare him, and he tightened his grip on the knife.

“The only rules,” it drawled.  “The _Courts’_ rules.   _Everyone_ obeys the Courts’ rules, even the kind you thi—“

He threw the knife, and it buried itself in the kelpie’s chest.  The creature radiated shock for a moment, swaying slightly, and then it abruptly collapsed.

Breathing hard, he approached warily, nudging it with a foot minutes after it had gone still to make sure.  Finally he removed his knife, making a face at the blue liquid that he shook off of it before tucking it back into his belt.  He could wash it off another time; he’d had enough of water for one day.

He turned away from the corpse, arms wrapping around himself as he shivered to keep warm.  Walking away from the beach, he wondered how hard it would be to steal another tunic.


End file.
